


The Thing in the Water

by Desdebrona



Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, LOVECRAFT H. P. - Works
Genre: Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Psychological Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdebrona/pseuds/Desdebrona
Summary: Wow what a jump from my other story.  Well I really like H.P Lovecraft's work so I wrote a story inspired by what he wrote. I like this one a lot so I'm pretty excited to share it!





	The Thing in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Wow what a jump from my other story. Well I really like H.P Lovecraft's work so I wrote a story inspired by what he wrote. I like this one a lot so I'm pretty excited to share it!

There was once a time when I could see boats on the ocean. I would look out over the water and see all kinds of boats and fishermen and sailors. Returning home I see them too. All of the seafaring folk taking their bounties back to their homes in town. The town itself is just a little shanty village. The docks jut out of the south side into the salty brine below. My home sat near the middle of town. The old logs used to build the thing were rotting from the inside out and the windows had been patched up multiple times, cracks still riddling the fragile panes. The seafolk had all but disappeared once I reached my door and the only thing that lined my vision was the two or three houses on the outskirts of town. Once inside I immediately went into the kitchen to turn on the wood stove, the temperature inside seemingly colder than it was outside. Taking a seat at the table I paged through the letters that had been sitting there from the day before, the paper stiff from the intense chill of the house.

It was then that I found the letter. If ever I were to pinpoint a start to all of this, it would be in this moment. The horrors that followed are not something that should be shared with the rest of the world-- or even any one person. These events stretch the mind and change what one might call ‘reality’ into something vile and incomprehensible. As I opened the letter I vividly remembered the musty smell that came from it. Enclosed in the envelope was something that looked like a clipping from a book. The front of the piece of paper had gorgeous cursive text on it, which I assumed was from the actual book. The back of the clipping had crude, hastily written words on it, only some of which I could decipher with a cursory glance. Looking more closer I could make out what they said: 

“Waiting here is agony. The mountains close in on me. The horrible noise coming from within them instills in me indescribable fears. Fears that I didn’t even know I had. I only know it now.”  
Reading this left me both disturbed and puzzled. I flipped the paper over, hoping that the other side would give me a clue as to what I had just seen. Reading these cursed letters on the back of the page awoke feelings in me I would not dare describe and would only experience again once more. The letters read to me as something completely foreign, and yet I was enthralled by the odd way that they moved across the page.

“KKKK- tssSS. ctctctct- tntn tntntn KKKKKK- vkovkovk- vka-”

Looking at the paper, the letters seemed to mimic sounds. Looking back inside the envelope I saw no extra documents that may help me decipher the strange message. Inside, however, I did find what seemed to be a piece of metal, but was amorphous in touch. I examined every inch of the black object but could find nothing of note. As I set it down I intended to look back at the piece of paper, but the metal made a strange popping noise and melted into a puddle on the table. I cautiously dipped a finger into the substance to find that it was ice cold- nearly bone chilling. I wanted to remove my hand from the puddle but found that the odd texture of the substance was inviting me to continue searching. The puddle was much deeper than it should have been and as I rooted around in it, I felt my fingers begin to stiffen from the intense cold and was forced to draw them out. Surprisingly they were completely dry, with no traces of moisture anywhere. Flexing my frozen fingers I decided to clean up the mess and turn in for the night. Retrieving a cloth from atop the wood stove I laid it upon the puddle. Unusually, the cloth did not absorb anything. Wiping it across the puddle, it did not move or even ripple as any liquid should. Puzzled by the thing, I shut the door to the wood stove and went to bed. 

The night was plagued by erratic noises that were written off as the byproduct of a fervent dream. Time in sleep and time awake blended into a solid mass that I could not distinguish. My head played images that were impossible for my conscious mind to imagine or even recall. Upon awakening from the nights bizarre experience I went back to the puddle to try and clean it up again. The sudden, gripping fear that I experienced upon seeing that the puddle was gone brought back and echo of the horrifying noise from the night before. The arrhythmic clicking rang about my head in a sickening whisper. The only thing that was able to pull me out of my trance was the bustling noise of the seafolk making their way to the docks outside. As I prepared myself to go out and join them I noticed the book clipping I had left on the table. I recalled the strange letters that lined the front of the paper and decided to take it with me. Once outside I made my way to the innermost part of town for work that day. I resolved to visit the library that night to see if I could learn more about the strange paper and the black puddle that followed it. 

As night fell I approached the library. It was a lone building that sat close to the outskirts of town. I grew more anxious the closer I got to the building. The entire library was covered in darkness, save for one flickering light that was attached to the wall. Blindly, I made my way towards the light until I reached the great wooden doors of the entrance. Upon entering I immediately sought out the language section. Plucking a few books from the shelf I found a seat and began to flip through them, hoping to find some clue about the paper. The letters themselves were in the language that I recognize, but the purely animalistic words that they formed confused me to no end. After reading through each of them and finding nothing that I could use, I shoved the books back into the shelf. Weary and frustrated, I trudged back home. 

Frustration and vehemence filled me as I was thrown into a restless sleep. The same strange images and sounds plagued my dreams that night. By morning they were pressing against the fringes of my mind, weighing heavily upon my senses. I could recall but one horrid image from my experience this time, though parts of me wished I could not. The image of the thing remained stuck in my mind-- a hideous, skinless mass. All throughout the day I thought of it and that infectious sound found me wherever I was. Upon my return to the library the noise had subsided, but only to be replaced by the ever increasing presence of that image in my mind. My search that night led me to texts on phanatical and occultist subjects. The things that I glimpsed that night should never have come into contact with paper. My reading of these texts was what drove me home late that night, and what fueled the vivid dreams that infested my slumber.  
Though I could not fully grasp what I had read, the information seemed to help me understand what I was seeing. That grotesque, fleshless mass seemed near familiar to me. The sound that rang through my head the night before had returned and when I awoke, it was wriggling around in my ears. I retired to the library even earlier that day. The texts I was unable to finish I took home with me, poring over them long into the night. The noise in my head intensified the further I delved. Sleep did not find me that night, and I was instead shown something horrid. The image from my head now sits upon the paper in front of me and that festering, fleshless mass was watching me from amongst the pages. 

I’ve learned of the note on the back of that paper- the urbane, cursed letters from that clipping. I realized that it is only a physical manifestation of that sound-- that awful clicking. I cannot transcribe it into language yet, but I am able to match up certain segments of text with the noise in my head. That morning, I did not stop anywhere but the library. I sat alone in the building, save for the itchy-eyed library attendant seated at a desk by the great wooden doors. Re-opening the book from the night before I flipped to the page with the picture of the venous, disgusting thing on it. The book itself told of its origin: a cold, alien thing coming from the dark, cavernous holes of the cosmos. The clicking, I found, came from a membranous appendage that stuck hideously out of the thing. My discoveries were halted by the library attendant shooing me from the premises on his way to the doctor. 

As I exited the building I heard it-- the noise. Despite my mind telling me to leave it, some unrecognizable force pulled me along. I passed by all of the fisherman and boaters who rubbed at their eyes, and the few birds that lined the path scattered as I passed. I picked up my pace as the noise got louder, so uncertainly intent on finding its source. My path was halted suddenly by the vast expanse of ocean that trapped out miniscule little village against the barren rocks surrounding us. The air was heavy with noise- the noise -but I was forced to retreat to my home by the offending ocean. 

I needed to eat, to sleep-- but I chose to seat myself at the table and look through the books I had taken home with me. I managed to contract a bit of information on the black puddle, but it was only and incomplete assumption that I believed to be untrue. 

Believing, however, does not change the truth. 

The book said that the puddle was a splat of space and that the disgusting, rot-muscled thing had crawled out of it. The theory did not explain the puddles metallic form, however. That, coupled with the fact that the author was noted to be maddened in his writing of the passage and could not properly understand what was going on, led me to be skeptical of this theory. I did think it was contradictory to believe in the existence of that veinous abomination from the stars and not the words of this author, so I decided to delve deeper. The authors messages became more frantic as time went on, saying that the noise- that dreaded noise -would not stop echoing all around him. The writings eventually dropped off into nothing but scribbled drawings of mountains that I was unable to decipher any meaning from, even when comparing them to the scrap of paper from before. 

I was intent on returning to the library to return this book and retrieve a new one, but a thick mist had settled outside and I decided my return visit could wait. I took this break to finally eat and rest my poor eyes. I did not know how long I slept, only that I was jolted awake by my own heartbeat. Looking outside the mist had not dissipated, but there were gaps cleared by where people were walking. I ventured out to investigate this mysterious phenomenon. I could not get a clear vision of the sailors around me...until I did. Their dark faces were darker than usual. They were no longer scratching at their eyes because there was simply nothing there to scratch at. The holes in their heads reminded me of the dark puddle that used to sit upon my kitchen table. 

I hastened to the library as fast as I could, wanting to avoid the blind sailors around me. I slammed the buildings great oak doors shut and kept myself inside. I do not know how long I stayed in there, or whether or not I had read. I do know that when I opened the great oak doors again, night had fallen. I ventured out into the dark abyss and followed a winding dirt road into town. Peering into frosted windows I saw a sailor at his table. Doing what, I will never truly know, but I do not trust the machinations of these eyeless freaks to be innately benevolent. 

It was at this time that the noise called to me. I heard it, I felt it, I knew it. I followed blindly to the edge, to the black night-water of the entrapping ocean. My journey ended here at the chilly prison of this sea just as it did last time. The only difference in this instance was the rising surge of a bubble of seawater.

The surge grew and grew until finally the bubble exploded. It was in this moment that my fears were manifested. That thing, that abomination that I could not even begin to understand-- was real. It was real. I know because it has risen from the water in front of me. It clicked in my ears and clancked along the deck with unknown appendages that were oozing out of it. As it closed in I saw the few eyes that looked shoved within its mass. Its ever increasing proximity was the end of the distinct horrors that have plagued me. Its front tentacle was a cold release. There was only one last sight offshore, and that was of the hundreds of other bubbles rising up to greet this solemn event.


End file.
